Theologian, James Mackey, once shared this story in a classroom: A
man he knew was part of a hunting expedition in Africa. His group was
camped in a jungle. One morning he left camp early, hiked a few miles
into the bush by himself, and shot two wild turkeys. Buckling these
to his belt, he was walking back towards camp, when he heard noises
and realized he was being followed. Frightened, his hands tight on
his rifle, he scanned the woods for movement.

His fear was quickly dispelled. What he saw stalking him was a young
boy, about twelve years old, naked and hungry. He realized instantly
that what the boy wanted was not him but food. He stopped, opened his
belt, let the turkeys fall to the ground, and backed away. The young
boy ran up to the turkeys, but didn't pick them up. Instead he looked
towards the man and, in his own language, began asking him for
something. Not understanding what the boy was asking, but sensing
that he wanted permission to take the birds, the man began gesturing
to him that it was okay. But the boy still was not at ease. He kept
asking and gesturing for something.

Finally, in desperation, the boy took several steps back from the
turkeys and stood silently with his hands out, open in front of him —
waiting until the man came and placed the turkeys into his hands.
Then he ran off into the jungle. He had, despite his hunger and need,
refused to take the birds. He had waited until they were given to
him.

This story, in essence, captures what makes for the opposite of
original sin. This young boy did what Adam and Eve didn't do. He
accepted that life had to be given him and that he could not take it
all on his own, no matter how desperate he was.

How is this so? To answer that, we need to look at what constituted
the original sin. What did Adam and Eve do that so badly violated
God's plan? How is their action the opposite of this young boy's?

The story of the fall of Adam and Eve is coloured throughout,
especially at the end (nakedness and shame), with sexual imagery, so
much so that we can easily conclude that their transgression was of a
sexual nature. It wasn't. The sexual motif in the story is a
metaphor, an image of rape. Adam and Eve took, as by force, something
which can only be received in love.

The condition that God gave Adam and Eve might be summarized this
way: “I am giving you life. I will bath you in life. But you must
receive it and never take it. As long as you receive it, it will
always be life–giving, but on the day you begin to take, rather than
receive, your actions will begin to deal death, distrust, alienation,
nakedness, and shame.” That single commandment encapsulates all
morality.

Sometimes we ask why God gave a commandment to Adam and Eve in the
first place: Why a condition? Why not paradise without conditions?
The question is a valid one, but, in answering it, we must be careful
to not see the commandment as a test, as some arbitrary thing that
God might have asked or not asked. The condition here isn't
arbitrary, it's something inherent within love itself. How so? God
made a love–contoured universe. In such an order of things,
everything is gift. Nothing may be snatched, grabbed by force, or
claimed by right. Life can only be received as gift, respectfully, in
its own time. It's the same with love. Something is only love and it
can only give life, when it is freely given and gratefully received.
This condition is part of love's DNA. Love is not unconditional and
never can be. There is a condition innate to love itself. To be love,
something must be received as gift. Conversely, if love is snatched
by force rather than respectfully received as gift, we have another
word for that, we call it rape.

The original sin of Adam and Eve wasn't sexual, but it was an act of
rape. They wrongfully took what was intended as gift. Our culture,
which rewards aggressiveness and tells us that we are foolish not to
take for ourselves the good things we want, too often invites us to
do the same thing.

The story of Adam and Eve was written centuries after the Ten
Commandments were given and is an attempt to summarize all of them in
a single condition: “You may receive, but you may never take!” That's
also the lesson in Jesus' gentle correction of the rich young man:
The man had asked: “What must I do to possess eternal life?” Jesus'
answer: “If you would receive eternal life, you must, like the young
African boy, stand before life with empty hands and wait until it is
given you.”